Friends
by FadedPromise
Summary: Another Lukeverse story. Luke asks his parents for a pet. And someone is out to get Lucien.
1. Chapter 1

_Another episode in my Lukeverse (see "Hero", "Sons" and "Carols"). Lucien and Jean are happily married with a young son, Lucien, Jr., known as Luke._

Jean smiled in greeting as Luke ran down the steps of his school and across the yard to throw his arms around her. She hugged him back. "Did you have a good day, sweetheart?"

"Yes!" he told her. He loved school. Each day was a new adventure for him.

She smiled down at him. Her two older sons had never much cared for school, but then their father had not been very supportive of learning. Christopher had wanted them to know enough to run a farm and considered anything beyond that somewhat pretentious.

When she went to work for the senior Doctor Blake, he had encouraged Jean to take courses so that she could help out on the business side of his practice. She had rediscovered how much she enjoyed learning, and this had only increased when Lucien had taken over for his father. She had been awed by the man's knowledge in so many areas, and this had made her want to learn more herself. Often in the evenings now while she worked on her knitting Lucien would read aloud whatever book he was working through. She was grateful that her last child had inherited a love for education.

He prattled on about his day. "I got all my spelling words right," he told her. "Miss Spring said I could help Duncan with spelling. He didn't do very well. Duncan hates spelling."

"That might be because he isn't very good at it," Jean said. "Maybe if you can help him be better, he won't hate it any more."

"That would be good, wouldn't it, Mum?"

"Yes, sweetheart. It's always good to help people."

"Like Dad does?" asked Luke.

"Just like your dad does," Jean smiled.

"It's good to help hamsters, too, isn't it?"

"Hamsters? Yes, I suppose so," said Jean, somewhat confused at the turn of conversation. "Do you know any hamsters?"

Luke nodded. "Miss Spring brought him in for the class. His name is Hamlet. It's my turn to take care of him this week. You know, give him food and water."

"That sounds like an important job. Be sure you don't forget."

"I won't." He stopped walking and looked up at her with his big blue eyes. "Mum, do you think we could get a dog?"

"A dog?" Jean had to think quickly. She hadn't even considered the possibility. With Christopher Jr. and Jack living on a farm, they had always had dogs around. Working dogs, but still there for the boys. She supposed it was only natural that Luke would want a pet, living in town.

"I don't know, Luke. What with the surgery, and all the people going in and out, I'm not sure a dog would be the best idea."

"I could watch him. Please, Mum, can you talk to Dad?"

Jean rolled her eyes. Lucien could deny their son very little. And she also recalled him lamenting at his own dog being sent away when he was a boy. Still, they should discuss it.

"All right, I'll talk with Dad. He'll be back from Melbourne late tonight. I'll speak with him then."

"Thank you, thank you, Mum." The boy gave her an exuberant hug.

"No promises now," Jean cautioned. "I only said I'll speak to him about it. Understood?"

"Understood," said Luke, but his eyes were shining. Jean just knew he was already picturing the new pet in his mind.

* * *

Lucien had spent the last two days at a trial in Melbourne, offering testimony against a man who had killed his wife to sell off off her diamond ring, then attempted to cover it up with a tale of a home burglary. He had taken the last train back to Ballarat, not wanting to be away a moment longer than necessary. Now the doctor was happy to be back home, and even happier to see his beautiful wife waiting at the train station. He greeted her with a kiss that was just this side of scandalous in a public place, even if the night's shadows concealed them from prying eyes.

"Lucien…" she scolded, but her eyes were shining, making him laugh with delight.

"How are you, my dearest?" he asked, his voice low and husky with the promise of more to come.

"Much better, now that you're home," she told him.

"Me, too," he grinned. "How's Luke?"

"He missed you, of course. Lucien, he asked me if he can have a dog. What do you think about the idea?"

"A dog, eh? I had thought we might let him have one when he's old enough to take responsibility for it. What brought it on now?"

Jean explained about the class pet. "I suppose we could wait until his week taking care of the hamster is finished. The extra work might make him change his mind."

Lucien gave her a skeptical look. "Our Luke?"

"Yes, you're right. That will be the best-fed hamster in Victoria by the time his week is up."

"Do we know anyone that might let us borrow a dog, just to see how he handles it?"

"Only farm dogs. I don't think that would be the same."

"No," said Lucien. "He'll want a dog that will follow him around the house and sleep on his bed." He still had fond memories of his boyhood dog Rosie before she was sent away.

"We'll have to see about the dog sleeping with him," Jean said, frowning at the idea of dog hair all over the bed linens.

"It sounds like we've made a decision," said Lucien grinning.

Jean sighed. "I guess we have. I'll start asking around, see who has puppies needing a home."

"Me, too. And speaking of home, it's wonderful to be back."

"And it's going to be even more wonderful very shortly," Jean assured him, practically purring.

Lucien's eyes darkened. "I can hardly wait."

* * *

In the morning Luke bounded down the stairs, anxious to see his father. He rushed into the kitchen where both his parents were sitting over tea. "Hi, Dad," he said softly.

Lucien's smile was like sunshine as he held out his arms for a hug. "Come here."

Luke happily climbed up onto his lap and into a bear hug. "I'm glad you're back, Dad."

"I am, too. Everything all right?"

"Yes," Luke said slowly. "Dad, can I have a dog?"

Lucien glanced at Jean, and they shared a smile. "Your mom and I talked about it. You know it's a big responsibility, right?"

Luke nodded. "I promise I'll take good care of it."

"You'll have to train it," said Jean. "It can't come into the surgery or the waiting area. We can't have it bothering the patients."

"I will, scout's honor," he promised with a sly look at his father.

Jean could only shake her head at her two boys.

* * *

On Friday Lucien finished up his surgery early and drove over to pick up Luke at school. Ron Caxton, the local vet, had advised he had a litter of yellow Labrador puppies that had just been weaned, and Lucien thought Luke might like to choose one.

The boy could barely contain his excitement, with Lucien having to remind him to sit still in the car after he began to bounce on the seat. As they pulled onto the lane that ran up to Caxton's house, Luke had his face pressed against the side window, as though he expected the puppies to be running alongside the road. Lucien found himself chuckling at his son's happiness.

Ron came out to greet them. He shook Lucien's hand, as both men recalled their first meeting, when the greeting had been with a shotgun.

"Is this the chap who needs a dog?" Ron asked, nodding toward Luke.

"Yes sir," the boy said.

"Well, then, come along. I have them out in the barn." He led the way, with Luke skipping along right at his heels. Lucien walked behind his son, smiling at the youthful enthusiasm. He had to admit he was quite looking forward to a puppy in the house himself.

On the floor of the barn, the tiny pups seemed to be everywhere, tumbling and scrambling over each other in rambunctious play. Luke fell to his knees in the midst of them, and they swarmed around him, snuffling his hands and trying to climb into his lap. He giggled at their antics, which made Lucien laugh with him.

Ron said, "Right, I'll leave you to it. Give me a shout when you've decided," and he left the barn.

"I want them all, Dad," he announced.

"I know, but that isn't really practical, is it?"

Luke shook his head. "I know. How can I choose one?"

"Take your time," Lucien advised him. "You'll see the right one."

He looked around himself and found a stool in a corner, where he could sit and watch the proceedings. Luke was in heaven, rolling around on the hay-strewn floor with the animals crawling all over him. One in particular, somewhat smaller than the rest, insisted on climbing up him to lick his face. Luke would laugh uproariously and put him back on the floor, only to have him start climbing again.

As Lucien enjoyed the sight, he suddenly felt a warm, wet pressure against his own hands, which were hanging down between his knees on the low stool. He glanced down to see a beagle there, looking up somewhat anxiously toward him. The dog was obviously elderly, much of its fur having gone grey/white.

"Well, hello there," he said, reaching down to scratch the old dog behind the ear.

Luke noticed, and came over to investigate, his tiny friend following him while the rest resumed their rambunctious tumbling. The elderly dog licked Luke's hand, staring up at him with her mournful brown eyes. "Who is this?" Luke asked.

"I don't know, but she's lovely, isn't she?"

"She is," said Luke. He crouched down to pet her, and the small puppy came over and began rubbing against her as well. She accepted the pup, nuzzling him back. When the older dog lay down, the little Labrador curled up next to her and she licked his paw. Both father and son continued to pet the elderly dog, who seemed to look at them with gratitude for the attention as the little one continued to nuzzle her as well.

"Dad," said Luke, staring up at him.

Lucien knew what he wanted. How could they choose between the sweet old dog and the smallest puppy? "I'm just going out to talk to Mister Caxton. You're all right on your own?"

"I'll stay right here with them," Luke assured him.

"Good. I'll be just outside if you need me. I won't be long."

Ron was mending a harness right outside the barn door. "You've decided already?" he asked when he saw Lucien.

"A couple questions first, if you don't mind."

Ron inclined his head.

"The elderly beagle. What's her story?"

"Duchess? She was my wife's dog. Been pining for her ever since she passed. Won't be long for this world is my guess."

"Maybe she would benefit by having someone else to love her? My son is very taken with her, as am I, I must admit. Is she housebroken?"

Frowning, Ron said, "She is, but I thought you wanted a puppy for the lad?"

"Well, yes, that too. The runt of the litter looks to be the favorite there."

"So you want to take both of them? Listen, doc, even with the best of care, I doubt Duchess will last more than another couple of years. If the boy gets too attached to her, well, it won't be easy for him."

"No, it won't. But I don't want him to think older pets, or older people for that matter, can't give just as much love and support as the younger ones. Besides, it's something he'll have to go through sooner or later if he wants to have pets. And hopefully the younger dog will help him through it."

"It's your call, doc. The little one is going to take some training. If you want, I can loan you a crate to get them home. And there's an old blanket that Duchess likes to sleep on. I'll give you that and some food to get you started."

"Thanks, Ron, that's very kind. What do I owe you?"

"Not a thing. You've solved a couple of problems for me, giving Duchess a family again and taking the runt off my hands. Now where did I put that crate?"


	2. Chapter 2

Jean was a little irritated when they got home. Trust Lucien to come back with two dogs instead of the one they'd agreed on. But it didn't take her long to fall in love with Duchess. The old dog seemed to take to Jean as well, following her around the house, but somehow always managing not to be in her path. Whenever Jean sat down, Duchess would be beside her feet, convenient for a pat or scratch behind the ears yet never in the way. She loved Lucien and Luke as well, but clearly Jean was her favorite. Lucien told Jean about her history with Ron's wife, and Jean surmised that she preferred the company of ladies.

Meanwhile, the puppy was a different story. Luke named him Nugget, saying he looked like a small piece of gold. There was no doubt as to whom Nugget preferred. He was forever at Luke's heels, and the two would romp around in the garden at top speed. Each day when Luke left for school, Nugget would sit at the door whining. It was a week before he realized the boy would return in the afternoon, and that he hadn't left for good.

As soon as he was big enough to jump up onto the bed, Nugget began sleeping with Luke, and despite her prohibition of it at first, Jean had to admit that the sight of the two golden heads asleep side by side tugged at her heart. The only times the two were parted were when Luke was at church or at school.

On a late autumn afternoon Jean walked her son back from school. As usual, he chatted away about his day - all he had learned and the games he had played with his friends.

"Mum, everyone wants to meet Nugget," he advised her. "Can I take him to school with me someday?"

"I'm afraid not, sweetheart. Nugget wouldn't really like school, would he? He isn't very good at sitting still and being quiet."

Luke sighed. "No, not really."

"How about this instead? What happens in two weeks?"

"My birthday!" Luke cried, clapping his hands in anticipation. "I'll be seven years old!"

"That's right. And that deserves a party, doesn't it? You could invite your friends over to the house and they can meet Nugget then."

"Oh, yes!" Luke hugged her waist. His shining eyes and happy grin were so like his father's that Jean had to bend down and kiss the top of his head.

As they neared the house, they could hear both dogs barking furiously. At first Jean thought they were just greeting their owners, but as they got closer, the barking became more frantic. Something had upset them.

Jean turned to her small son and spoke quietly. "Luke, I want you to wait here, please. Don't come in until I come back for you. If you hear anything strange, run to Mrs. Hardaway's house and ask her to call Uncle Charlie at the station. Understood?"

Luke nodded solemnly, his eyes wide with apprehension.

Jean noted that the car was in the driveway so Lucien must be around somewhere. She kissed her son's cheek, took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open.

The only sound she could hear was the dogs, now jumping around her, then running toward the kitchen. Cautiously, she followed where they led. Nothing seemed out of place except that the door leading to the back garden was slightly ajar.

Taking a butcher knife from its cupboard drawer, she pulled the door open. Both dogs rushed out, running to a form lying in the grass. Jean gasped. Lucien!

A quick look around told her the garden was otherwise deserted, and she figured the dogs would warn her if there was anyone else nearby. She hurried to her husband, who was lying face down, a trickle of blood showing near the base of his skull.

As she started to roll him over, Lucien groaned, reached a hand up to the wound, and warily opened his eyes. When he recognized Jean, he managed a rueful smile.

"What happened?" Jean asked, helping him sit up.

He started to shake his head, but hissed at the pain it caused.

"Right. Let's get you up and inside first. Into the surgery to clean up that cut."

With her help, he managed to stagger to his feet, still groggy. She was already debating whether to take him to hospital instead.

As they passed the front door, she remembered that Luke was still outside, probably scared to death. She called out to him. "Sweetheart, it's all right to come in now."

Luke pushed open the front door carefully, peering inside. When he saw his mum assisting Dad toward the surgery, he ran to help.

"Can you open the door to the surgery, please?" Jean instructed him.

Luke pulled the door aside, then lifted his father's medical bag out of the way so there was room for him to lie down. "What happened?" he asked, his voice hushed with the gravity of the situation.

Lucien recognized the boy's fear. "It's all right, son. I'll be fine in just a minute."

Not so easily convinced, Jean tried to remember the protocol for identifying concussion, but Lucien was already running through it himself. "No nausea or blurred vision. Memory seems fine."

Jean helped him up on the surgery table, then tested that his eyes could track movements correctly.

"I'm fine. Just a splitting headache," he insisted.

After swabbing the wound with antiseptic, Jean went to fetch the Bex and some water. When she had returned and Lucien had swallowed the pain reliever, she sat down and stared up at him. "What happened to you?"

"I have absolutely no idea," he admitted. "The dogs put up a fuss about something in the back garden. I thought it must be a rodent or a rabbit, so I went out to see. Then something hit me from behind."

"Some _one_ , I'd say, judging from where the blow landed," Jean pointed out.

"Yes," said Lucien slowly. He admitted to himself that his brain seemed to be operating somewhat slower than usual.

"You aren't working on any open cases at the moment, are you?"

Lucien shook his head, immediately regretting the action and wincing at the sharper pain. "No, nothing."

"Then perhaps we should notify the police. Assault is still a crime."

"Perhaps we should, but I want to look around out there first." He made a move to stand, but Jean pushed him back down.

"That can wait. Right now you need to lie down and rest, Lucien."

"If whoever it was is still out there…"

"The dogs will tell us if there's anyone about who shouldn't be." She reached into his desk drawer to pull out a blanket and held it expectantly until he was actually reclining and she could drape it over him. "Call out if you need anything," she told him, kissing his cheek.

She ushered Luke out of the surgery, then turned out the light and closed the door behind her.

Luke looked up at her, his eyes still wide with worry. Jean squeezed his shoulder. "Your dad will be fine, sweetheart. Right now, I think we both need our tea, yes?"

She led him into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. Despite her assurances to Lucien, though, she took another look out into the garden, and seeing no one around, pulled the door closed and made sure the latch was fastened firmly.

"Mum?"

"I think it's time to call the police," she told him. She wouldn't take any chances. Lucien could do all the investigating he wanted, but she wasn't about to put Luke's life in danger if there was a prowler about. The dogs might provide a warning, but Charlie could make sure they were all safe.

* * *

The _sun beat down mercilessly, and with the restraints holding him in place there was no way Lucien could escape it. He twisted, trying to get it out of his eyes, but in vain. His head pounded, his mouth so dry he couldn't even swallow. And then his ears started ringing._

The noise pulled him out of the nightmare. The telephone. Just the telephone ringing. He groaned as he sat up. His head was still pounding and the thirst was very real. His first instinct was to reach for a whiskey, but he thought better of it. Instead, he got to his feet and headed for the kitchen.

Jean was just hanging up the phone when she spotted him. "How are you feeling?" she asked, but the lack of color in his face told the story.

"Sit down," she ordered. "What do you need?"

"I'm…" He thought better of lying to her. "…very thirsty," he amended what he was going to say.

"And some more Bex, I'd say," she observed.

She waited until he had swallowed the pain reliever and downed the entire glass of water. "Better?"

"Much. Thank you, my dear. Who was that on the telephone? Am I needed somewhere?"

"You're needed right where you are," she said firmly. "And the caller was Monika Goodman, of all people. The second time she's called today. She wants to be added to your list."

"Really? Our last parting wasn't on the best of terms. I wonder what's changed."

"I heard she and Herbert Goodman have separated."

"Is that right? I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yes. Unfortunately, it's all too common after the loss of a child, even though it happened some years ago," she said sadly. "Anyway, I told her I'd let her know if you had room to take her on."

"Yes, of course, I can," said Lucien. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Because she's your old flame? Should I mind?" she teased, walking up behind him to put her arms around his neck and kiss the top of his head.

He reached up to place his hands over hers. "Not in the slightest," he assured her. "If the eighteen-year-old me had known you were in this world, my dear, I never would have even looked at Monika Parker."

He tilted his head back, and she leaned forward to kiss his lips. "The important thing is that we're together now," she whispered, smoothing down his hair around the wound. "And I'll let her know you can see her. Oh, Charlie will be around shortly. He wants to have a look around, and he'll want you to give a statement."

He leaned down to pat the two dogs that swirled around his feet.

Jean nodded toward them. "They've been concerned about you," she said. "They've barely stood still while you were asleep. Nugget isn't even helping Luke with his school work."

"They haven't been barking?"

"Not at all. Whoever it was, he's long gone," Jean insisted.

"Yesss," Lucien agreed, but the thought was of little comfort when he didn't know who it had been, or why.

* * *

"So you didn't see him at all, Doc?" asked Charlie.

"Not even a glimpse, I'm afraid," said Lucien, unconsciously running his fingers gently over the wound at the back of his head. "For all I know, it could even have been a woman. A very strong woman, judging by the force of the blow."

Charlie glanced over at Jean.

"No, it wasn't me," she said, her eyes twinkling. "He's behaved himself lately."

"Right," said Charlie. "I'll just take a look around the garden, shall I?"

"Of course," said Lucien, waving a hand in that general direction.

Jean unlatched the door for him and held it open. "I'll put the kettle on. Do you have time for a cuppa, Charlie? Fresh scones to go with it."

He smiled at her. "Thank you, Jean. I'll make time for your scones."

She was just pouring out the tea when he returned, latching the door behind him.

"Anything?" asked Lucien, who hadn't had the opportunity to look out there himself yet.

"Just a few bent branches. Looks like your intruder squeezed himself through the hedge right next to the tree to get into the garden. Short of putting up a fence, I'm not sure how you can prevent it happening again."

"Oh, dear," said Jean, looking to Lucien. "I just wonder what he, or she, was after."

"Any reports of home burglaries in the neighborhood?" Lucien asked.

"Not so far," said Charlie. "I can have someone put on foot patrol for the area, but if the perpetrator is going through back gardens it wouldn't do much good, would it? I didn't see anything out there that could have been used for a weapon either."

"Probably taken away with him. Didn't want to leave evidence," said Lucien.

"Which makes me think it was planned, not some kid acting on a whim."

"Agreed. If it had been a youngster, the dogs' barking would likely have scared him off."

Jean addressed Charlie. "Do you think we're safe here? It's just that with Luke in the house…"

"Well, it seems like the dogs did scare him off since he doesn't seem to have entered the house," Charlie pointed out. "If they start up again, call the station right away and I'll send someone out. And I'd recommend keeping that door latched at all times."

"Thank you, Charlie."

"Yes, thank you," Jean echoed. "You'll let us know if you learn anything more?"

"Of course." But they could both tell he didn't hold out much hope of solving the case.

* * *

With his headache little diminished, Jean insisted Lucien lie down again. She wasn't surprised to see that he fell asleep rather quickly, but she was still concerned about him. With that in mind, she called Alice and invited her to dinner. The excuse was that Alice wanted Lucien's input on a troubling autopsy, but in reality she would observe him for any signs of a more serious injury.

When Jean informed him upon awakening, Lucien smiled gently. "Jean, it's always lovely to see Alice, but really, I'm fine."

"So says the self-proclaimed 'dreadful patient'?"

He nodded. "As long as it will make _you_ feel better," he said, kissing her cheek before he went to the kitchen for another glass of water. He noted that both dogs were lying in front of the door to the back garden. They looked up at him and wagged their tails as he passed them, giving both a pat on the head as he did.

"I'm so glad we have them," said Jean.

"Me too," chirped Luke, coming up behind her. He knelt on the floor to cuddle with them, both dogs licking his face.

* * *

Alice was not a dog person. They had never had pets at home when she was a child, and as a young adult she had moved often for job opportunities, so that a pet would have been a burden. But now that it looked like Ballarat would continue to be her home for the foreseeable future, she might consider it.

"Who knows how long you might have lain out there if the dogs hadn't alerted Jean," she observed, sitting in the parlor after dinner.

"Quite right," said Lucien.

Duchess had come over to investigate her, and Alice leaned down to run a hand over the dog's head. "Maybe I should think about getting one," she observed. Then, with a sly look at Lucien, "A dog, not a concussion."

"I don't have a concussion," he insisted. "Please don't make Jean worry about me any more than she already does."

Alice smiled at Jean. "No, he's right. I don't see any signs of a concussion. I suppose his head is too hard."

Jean laughed at Lucien's scowl, but she ran a hand over his shoulder as he sat beside her on the settee. "I happen to be very fond of that head," she murmured to him. "And I don't want anything to happen to it."

"And you have no idea who or why?" asked Alice.

"None whatsoever," said Lucien. "I suppose it could be related to an old case, someone with a grudge. Or it could just have been a home burglary attempt gone awry, as Charlie seems to think."

"You don't think so," Alice observed.

"No, I don't. He hit me, I was out like a light, and the house was empty, but he doesn't seem to have come in."

"Maybe the dogs scared him off?"

Lucien shook his head. "Then why didn't he run off as soon as the dogs started barking? He only left after he hit me."

Jean clutched his hand anxiously. Just what they needed - another person with a grudge against her husband.

She looked a warning at the others not to continue on the subject when Luke came into the room in his pyjamas and dressing gown, carrying a book. Smiling at her little man, she scooted over so he could squeeze in between the two of them.

Alice was familiar with the bedtime ritual, having seen it since Luke was so small that he could barely sit upright. It still warmed her heart that her colleague, who had once been such a reckless loner, was now the epitome of a family man. With all he had been through, she didn't know anyone who deserved this happiness more. "What are you reading?" she asked.

" _Kidnapped_ ," Luke told her. "It's exciting."

"Yes, I recall," said Alice. "David Balfour and his miserly uncle."

Luke nodded, grinning. Alice had seen the exact same grin on his father's face too many times to count. He really was an endearing little boy, as children went.

Lucien, however, was frowning at the book, squinting at the letters. Finally he sighed and handed it back to Luke. "Why don't you do the reading tonight?" he suggested.

"All right, Dad?" Luke asked, concerned at the change in their routine.

"I'm fine. Just this blasted headache. You go ahead. The story will take my mind off it."

Luke took the book, continuing to study his father's face for a moment longer, but after an encouraging nod, he opened it and began to read.

Alice noted that he read very well for his age, but then again he'd been reading since the age of three or so, she knew. He even did different voices for the various characters, seemingly mimicking the way his father read to him. She smiled to herself, hoping for Jean's sake that he hadn't inherited all of his father's behaviors.

When the words began to slow, Lucien gently took the book from his son's hands and held out his arms. The boy crawled into them, and Lucien stood, prepared to carry him up to bed.

"Good night, Doctor Harvey," Luke mumbled.

"Good night, Luke. Sleep well."

Normally Luke would have called for Nugget to follow them upstairs, but tonight he had other instructions for his dog. "Nugget, you stay down here. Guard the house. Good boy."

She noticed how the dog watched him until he disappeared from sight, then went to lay in the kitchen. Yes, she should definitely think about getting one for herself.

* * *

Jean noted that a good night's sleep seemed to have done Lucien a world of good. His energy level seemed to have risen, and the usual spark had returned to his eyes. It looked like she wouldn't need to cancel the day's surgery after all.

She wasn't quite sure how she felt about him taking on Monika Goodman. She trusted Lucien completely, but she'd heard rumours about the woman for years, although not really knowing her personally. On the other hand, there had been similar rumours about Jean herself for many years, and she knew exactly how little truth they'd contained, so she decided she would give the woman the benefit of the doubt.

When she arrived, Jean greeted her at the door and showed her through to the waiting area. She noted the way Monika seemed to be studying her, judging her even. She supposed it was only natural, if she had hoped for something more from Lucien all those years ago. Jean could afford to be tolerant - after all, Lucien had chosen _her_ in the end.

"The doctor should be with you in just a moment, Mrs. Goodman," Jean said, keeping her voice bright.

"Thank you, Jean," the other woman said, a dismissive tone to her voice.

Giving a mental shrug, Jean stepped into the surgery where Lucien was writing up his notes on the previous patient. He looked up and smiled as she closed the door behind her. Even after all these years, her heart still did little flips when he looked at her that way.

"Mrs. Goodman is here," she told him.

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her assessment.

Jean sniffed. "Frankly, I'm not that impressed with her, and she's definitely not impressed with me."

"I see. Well, obviously she's not a very good judge of character."

"She seemed to approve of the eighteen-year-old you," Jean pointed out.

"That proves my point. I was such a rotter at that age," said Lucien. He stood up and came out from behind the desk to give her a peck on the cheek. "Now would you be so kind as to show her in?"

Jean did as he asked, then closed the door behind them and headed toward the kitchen. "I hope she doesn't pull a muscle in her efforts to flirt with him," she muttered to herself. She had noted with not a little satisfaction that Lucien seemed oblivious to most women's attempts to come onto him. Clearly they couldn't see that he just wasn't interested.

Humming to herself, she began to fix their afternoon tea. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Duchess suddenly sit up and then stand at attention. Nugget quickly joined her. She looked out the window into the back garden, but saw no movement. Suddenly both dogs charged for the front door, barking furiously.

Lucien came running, calling out her name until he saw that she was fine. Then he turned toward the door, pausing to take hold of Luke's cricket bat from its customary place in the umbrella stand. Jean was right behind him when he opened the door.

The dogs raced out, still barking, and ran toward the road. Lucien called them to heel as he also went out to the pavement just as they heard a car engine roar to life and pull away sharply in the opposite direction.

"Did you see it?" asked Jean, resting a protective hand on his shoulder.

"Just a glimpse. A black sedan. Not much help, I'm afraid."

"Well, I think that rules out youngsters playing a prank," Jean frowned.

They turned back to the house to see Monika standing in the doorway. "Lucien, what's going on?" she demanded.

"I do apologize, my dear. We seem to have an intruder bent on getting into the house," he told her.

"Yes, quite a violent intruder," said Jean. "He attacked Lucien yesterday."

"Goodness!" She came forward to put a hand on Lucien's forearm. "I hope you weren't hurt?"

Jean glared at the offending hand while Lucien said, "Nothing serious. Jean took good care of me, as she always does."

 _Hmm. Maybe not so oblivious after all,_ Jean decided.

* * *

Despite Lucien telling him there was really nothing to see, Charlie insisted on coming out to the house again for another look around.

"Only two motives I can see, then," he told them. "Either he wants something that's inside the house…"

"In which case, why wouldn't he wait until no one is home?" Jean pointed out, beating Lucien to the punch.

"Yes, it doesn't make much sense," her husband agreed.

Charlie nodded that he concurred. "Or he is after one of you. Doc, are you sure you can't think of someone that might have a grudge?"

"Not unless it's someone from my distant past," said Lucien. "I can't think of anything recent."

"Maybe someone just got out of prison?" Jean suggested.

"I'll check on that. In the meantime, you need to be extra careful about who you let in. Maybe you should think about sending Luke somewhere safe."

Lucien and Jean looked at each other, then shook their heads in unison.

"No, he's safer with us, where we can watch over him," Lucien insisted.

"Not to mention how scared he'd be if he realized why," said Jean. "And he's too smart to fool about something like this."

"All right, it's your call," said Charlie. "Just be careful. Please."

"We will. We have our early warning system," said Lucien, reaching down to pet the two dogs.

* * *

Jean knew she was in for an argument but there was no getting around it - they were nearly out of food and she had to go to the market before she could prepare dinner.

"Lucien, I'm off to the shops," she announced, trying to sound as she did every other time she went.

He hurried out of his study where he'd been working on patient files. "Jean…"

She quickly cut him off. "Lucien, prowler or no, we still have to eat. I refuse to let him dictate our lives."

"Very well, then we'll go with you."

"Don't you have work to do?"

He looked at the file he still held in his hand. "Yes, but it can wait."

"Really, Lucien, I'll be fine."

He took a deep breath and then sighed, knowing he couldn't win this argument. "Very well, but take the car. You shouldn't be walking."

"What if you're needed somewhere?"

"It will have to wait until you return. Jean, do this for me, please?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely." She smiled at him. How could she refuse, especially since having the car would make it so much easier?

"Thank you, my dear. And keep your eyes open along the way, in case you're followed."

She didn't like to see him worry, but after so many years of being on her own, it still warmed her that someone cared so much for her well-being. "I will. Luke is still on the settee, reading his books," she reminded him. They'd kept the boy home from school for the day since he had a slightly elevated temperature and stuffed nose.

"I'll look in on him," Lucien promised.

"And I'll be as quick as I can."

He insisted on kissing her before she left, and she wasn't about to protest.

She pulled the front door closed behind her, and waited until she heard the latch fastened before she walked to the car, looking around carefully as she did. When she reached the car, she peered inside to make sure it was empty before she opened the door, got in, then closed and locked the door.

Her vigilance continued as she pulled out into the roadway. It was nearly empty, which was the reason she noticed the black sedan following at a distance. For a moment she considered turning around and going back home, but there were dozens of black sedans in Ballarat, she knew. So far it had shown no reason to be feared, and besides, as long as she was in the car with the doors locked she was relatively safe. And if it was their prowler, she might get a chance to see his face.

She drove on, changing speeds a couple of times and noting that her follower did the same. Definitely suspicious behavior.

She decided she could not afford to take any chances. When she got into town, she drove directly to the police station. With some satisfaction, she saw the car behind her turn away as soon as it was clear where she was headed. She just wished he had been close enough to see his registration plate or to get a better look at the man himself.

Bill Hobart was outside the station smoking a cigarette and saw her pull up. He came over to the car while she was debating whether to report what had happened. She rolled down the window.

"Mrs. B, is there something I can help you with?" he asked.

"Hello, Bill. I don't think so. Charlie told you we've had problems with a prowler?"

"He mentioned it, yes."

"Someone was just following me. He disappeared when I turned in here."

Bill was immediately the professional. "You should come in and file a report," he insisted, reaching for the door handle to open it for her.

"I'm afraid I don't have much to report. It was a man in a black sedan, just as Lucien already told Charlie. He stayed far enough behind me that I couldn't make out his face or see his plate number. No help there."

"Oh." He thought for a moment. "Will you be in town long?"

"Just long enough to do the marketing," she told him. "Why do you ask?"

"If you'll wait while I go inside to tell them where I'll be I want to go with you. Keep on eye on things. See if I spot anyone suspicious around. If that's okay with you, ma'am."

Jean smiled at the gruff policeman. "It's not necessary, but honestly, it would make me feel a lot better. Thank you."

"Just doing my job," he insisted. Heaven forbid anyone should think Bill Hobart was doing something nice.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucien had sat with Luke for a few minutes, checking that his temperature hadn't risen and that he had enough books to keep him occupied. He made tea for both of them and assured Luke he need only give a shout if he needed anything. Teacup in hand, he returned to his study and went back to the patient files.

He was engrossed in notating the anomalies of Mrs. Herford's gout when the barking started. At first he didn't pay much attention, thinking the dogs were tussling with each other, as they often did, but the noise quickly escalated. He was already hurrying toward them when Luke shouted, "Dad!"

He scooped Luke up in his arms and commanded the dogs to follow him just as the sound of broken glass signaled that a window had been smashed. His mind was racing, seeking a way to keep his son safe. He ran back to his study, since he knew that the room's key was handy, and put the boy down. When the dogs had also entered, he gave Luke the key. "Lock the door behind behind me and put the key in your pocket. Only open it when I tell you to, understood?"

"Dad, you stay here too," Luke pleaded.

Lucien rested a hand on his son's head. "I'll be fine. I have to take care of this. What if your mother should walk in on whoever is out there?"

Luke's eyes widened. "Be careful, okay?"

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he promised. "Now lock the door, please."

He waited outside the door until he heard the key turn, then went in the direction of the sound, pausing only to seize the cricket bat once again. He briefly wished for his service revolver, but he and Jean had decided there could be no firearms in the house after Luke was born. Both his and Christopher's weapons were in a safety deposit box at the Ballarat Bank.

He could hear someone moving in the parlor and so proceeded quietly in that direction. He thought of just shouting to scare the intruder off, but he was tired of living under siege. He wanted to end it now.

Reaching the entrance to the parlor, he peered around the edge of the doorway. A man of medium height and build with dark hair had his back to Lucien.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lucien said forcefully, wanting to make the man turn so he could see his face. The intruder obliged, but he was wearing a handkerchief as a mask, covering the lower half of his features. And with a hat brim pulled down low, only his pale eyes were visible. Lucien knew he had seen the man before but couldn't place where.

He was so intent on the man's face that he almost missed the kitchen knife he was wielding. He made a swipe toward Lucien but was still well out of range. Lucien held the bat out in front of him to block any further attacks as he advanced on the man.

"It's over," he said as he inched forward. "Why not come quietly before you do something that can't be undone?"

"Too late," the man growled.

Just as Lucien was about to swing the cricket bat at the intruder's knife hand, he was startled by the sound of the car pulling up outside. Jean was back. Instinctively he turned his head in the direction of the front door.

The momentary distraction was enough. The intruder lunged forward, his knife catching Lucien's left shoulder. When he recoiled at the pain, the man ran past him and toward the kitchen. The door slammed behind him as he fled.

* * *

Jean opened the door to chaos. She shouted for Bill Hobart, who had followed her home in his police car.

"Lucien," she gasped, as blood seeped through his jacket from between the fingers he held to his shoulder.

"It's all right, Jean," he assured her. "Nothing serious." He turned to Bill who had just rushed in. "He went out through the kitchen door."

The police officer went after the intruder.

"Where's Luke?" Jean asked, as she helped Lucien to a chair.

"He's in the study. He's safe, but probably terrified. Please, see to him first."

Jean kissed the top of his head, then went to see to their son.

* * *

Luke cowered beneath the desk, holding onto the dogs with a collar in each of his hands. "Dad will be okay," he whispered to them with tears running down his cheeks.

When he heard the doorknob rattle, he gasped in fear. In a tiny voice, he called, "Dad?"

"No, sweetheart, it's Mum. You can come out now, Luke. It's safe."

He was trembling as he crawled out of his hiding place. The dogs began barking once more, but no longer in anger. Luke fumbled in his pocket for the key to the door. With shaking hands, it took him two attempts to fit it into the lock. Then he eased the door open, peering through a crack until he saw his mother standing there, reaching her arms out to him.

He sobbed as he threw himself into her embrace. "Mum, where's Dad?"

"He's in the kitchen," she assured him, holding on tight and stroking his blond curls.

"Can I see him, Mum?" Luke would not feel reassured until he knew his father was safe.

"Of course, you can. He hurt his shoulder, but he'll be just fine."

In the kitchen, Lucien had removed his jacket and was holding a towel to his shoulder to staunch the flow of blood as he talked with Sergeant Hobart, who had just returned.

"I'm sorry, Bill, I can't identify him. He concealed his face. There was something familiar about him, but," he winced, "I can't put a name to him. Maybe it will come to me."

"Doc, this guy isn't giving up."

"I don't…" He stopped when he saw Luke with Jean. The boy's eyes were wide as he stared at the bloody towel.

"Dad…" he said in a small voice.

"Come here, son," Lucien urged, putting the towel down to hold out his arms in welcome. "Are you all right?"

"You're hurt," Luke whispered.

"Little more than a scratch," Lucien assured him. "No stitches required. I'll just stick a plaster on it and it'll be right as rain in no time. You kept the dogs safe?"

Luke nodded. "We kept each other safe. Was it the same one who hit your head? What does he want?"

Lucien sat down, pulling Luke onto his lap. "I don't know for sure, but I think it was probably the same man," he explained. "He didn't say what he wants."

"I think he should be in jail!" Luke declared.

Bill looked impressed. "I think so too. We'll have to see what we can do about putting him there."

They resettled Luke on the couch,. Bill volunteered to board up the broken window until they could get a glazier out to see to it. And Jean escorted Lucien into the surgery to see to his latest wound. Since Luke's birth he had been much more careful about placing himself in danger, so no longer was patching him up a weekly occurrence.

While they were out of Luke's hearing, she told him about being followed and made sure to emphasize that she was never in any danger. "Still," she said, "we can't live like this. What are we going to do, Lucien?"

"I don't suppose I could convince you to take Luke away until this is cleared up? Maybe visit Christopher and his family?"

Jean was shaking her head before he'd even finished. "Not unless you come with us, and we both know that won't happen. Besides, until they catch this man, whoever he is, what's to say he won't start all over again when we return?"

Lucien was clearly frustrated, running his free hand through the hair at the back of his head, only to encounter the prior wound.

Jean stilled his hand by taking it in both of hers. "Maybe we could have Charlie and Matthew to dinner, talk it over with them. Between us, we might be able to come up with a plan."

* * *

After dinner, and with Luke tucked up in bed, they discussed the situation. Neither Matthew nor Charlie could come up with a reasonable plan to catch the intruder short of stationing a couple of officers at the Blake home full time, perhaps for days. The Ballarat Police Department did not have the manpower for such an operation.

"I could stay here in the evenings and overnight," Charlie offered, "but you say he's only ever shown up during the day, so that's not much help. Sorry."

"We understand," Jean assured him. "We'll figure something out." She glanced at Lucien who was flexing his injured shoulder gingerly. Between the blow to the head and the stab wound, she was afraid to think about what might be next.

He stood up. "The dogs need to be walked," he announced. "Would you mind staying here with Jean and Luke until I get back?"

Charlie stood up. "I'm going with you, Doc."

Matthew nodded. "I'll stay here."

"Thank you, Charlie, Matthew." He whistled for the dogs, who were immediately dancing around the front door.

When they had gone, Jean took a deep breath, feeling shaky.

Matthew noticed. He reached out a hand to grasp hers.

"I hate this," she said, holding back a sob. "Someone wants to hurt him, Matthew. Hasn't he been through enough? He only ever tries to help people."

A few years before, Matthew could not have agreed with her. Blake had seemed to make a habit of annoying those around him. But since his marriage to Jean, and especially since Luke's birth, family life had mellowed the man. Like Jean, he was stumped as to why anyone would be out to get him now.

Charlie was also baffled. "You're sure you can't think of who would have it in for you?" he asked Lucien as they ambled along behind the dogs in the direction of town.

The doctor kept one eye on the dogs who tugged on their leashes. "As far as I know, I haven't done anything to make someone want to attack me lately. I really have tried to be worthy of my wife. It has to be something in the past, but nothing comes to mind."

"And you didn't recognize him when he stabbed you?"

Lucien frowned. "There was something familiar, but his face was covered except the eyes. I'm still trying to picture the rest of it…"

He broke off when the dogs started barking. Duchess was jumping while Nugget lunged forward, jerking his leash and pulling Lucien's injured shoulder painfully.

"What's going on?" asked Charlie, as Lucien shifted the leashes to his other hand and began trotting as the dogs pulled him behind them, barking incessantly.

"Something has them upset. Let's see what it is."

A moment later they were running as Lucien wanted to give the dogs their head, see where they would lead.

At first Lucien was in the lead, but Charlie soon passed him. When the younger man looked over, he could see blood beginning to stain the shoulder of Lucien's sweater. "Doc!" he cried, pointing.

Lucien glanced down at the site of the wound and merely urged Charlie to keep going. He held out the handles of the leashes, indicating to take them and go. Charlie hesitated but quickly realized Lucien would not stop, not when his family was in danger, so he kept on following where the dogs led.

When he turned his attention forward again, he could see a man running in front of him. "There!" he shouted.

Recognizing the clothing the man wore as identical to that of the intruder who had stabbed him, Lucien merely nodded and kept running.

They were in the town itself now, and encountering the citizens out walking for the evening - those eating out or going to the cinema. The pavements were getting more crowded the closer they got to the center of town.

Frustrated, Charlie slowed to a walk and shook his head. "I can't see him now."

"The dogs can still find him," Lucien insisted. He took the leashes back and knelt down to speak with them. "Where is he? Can you find him for me?"

Duchess put her nose to the ground to sniff, while Nugget lifted his into the air. A moment later both were pulling on the leashes again and the two men followed where they led.

The dogs went around a corner and finally up to the entrance to the Rex Cinema building.

"Hang on, you can't bring those dogs inside," said the young attendant, blocking their way.

"Police business," said Charlie, flashing his badge. "Did a man just enter, alone, wearing…"

"Wearing a brown jacket, white shirt, black trousers," Lucien continued.

"Herb Goodman?" asked the young man.

Lucien closed his eyes, picturing what he could remember of the intruder's face. "Yes, Herbert Goodman." He turned to Charlie. "I said there was something familiar about the man. That's who it was."

"Is there a back door?" asked Charlie.

"Fire department requires it."

"Where does it exit?" Lucien demanded.

The attendant pointed off to the left. "Down there."

Lucien took the dogs in that direction, and almost immediately they barked and started pulling forward again. "Charlie," he called.

They set off again, letting the dogs lead them.

They went down an alley and then back out to a main thoroughfare. After several blocks, the dogs again stopped outside a building, this time a restaurant.

"I'll take it from here, Doc," said Charlie. "You can stay here with the dogs, make sure he doesn't't make a run for it."

"Be careful, Charlie. He may still have that knife."

"Understood."

Charlie made his way inside, spoke briefly with the _maitre d'_ and then headed toward the table indicated. Mister Goodman was holding the establishment's rather large menu up in front of his face as he slid lower in the chair, as if he could make himself small enough not to be seen.

When Charlie approached, though, he knew it hadn't worked. Goodman made a run for it in another direction, shoving aside customers and upsetting a server with a full tray of food and plates. He made it as far as the door before the dogs went for him. Each of them latched onto a trouser leg and the man went down at Lucien's feet.

"You," Goodman snarled angrily.

"I don't understand," said Lucien, as Charlie helped the man to his feet and clamped a firm hand around his upper arm. "Why would you do all this?"

"It's all your fault! My marriage is over because of you!"

Lucien was stunned. "Your marriage? What do I have to do with your marriage?"

"I heard her on the phone with you. I saw her leave your house."

"She called to set up a medical appointment for a checkup. And she kept that appointment. Mister Goodman, if your marriage is over, I can assure you it has nothing to do with me."

Charlie stepped in. "As I recall, Mister Goodman, you're very good at blaming others for your own shortcomings."

"You're denying you have an attraction to my wife?" Goodman demanded.

"I had an attraction to your wife when I was eighteen years old!" Lucien insisted. "My wife and son mean the world to me. I would never do anything to jeopardize that."

"Come along, Mister Goodman. You're under arrest for assault, forced entry and probably several other charges. You won't be bothering the Blake family again for a long time."

* * *

It was very late by the time Lucien got home. He found Matthew dozing on the settee and Jean nowhere to be seen.

"I sent her to bed as soon as you called with the news," Matthew informed him. "Where I'm headed myself."

"You're welcome to use the guest room."

Matthew shook his head. "No, thanks. Good night, Blake. Well done."

"I was a minor player. It was Charlie, and these two." He swept his hands toward the dogs.

He saw Matthew out, locked the door and headed to their bedroom.

Jean was already asleep, so he slipped into bed, gently kissed her cheek, then slept soundly for the first time in days.

By the time he awoke Jean was in the kitchen preparing breakfast as Luke fed the dogs.

"Take good care of them," he told the boy. "They're heroes."

"Morning, Dad," said Luke with a big smile.

Lucien kissed Jean. "Morning, you two."

"Is it over then?" asked Jean.

"It is, thanks in large part to Duchess and Nugget. They not only led us to the man, they helped capture him."

"Did they? How about that," said Jean, smiling down at the canines.

"I'll tell you all about it later, after breakfast."

"I guess it's a good thing you let me have a dog," Luke grinned.

Lucien swept the boy up in a bear hug. "A very good thing indeed," he agreed.

"So, do you think I could get a pony?"

Jean laughed. "He's definitely his father's son."


End file.
